Anza-Borrego

For the most part so far, our trip has been distinguished by bad weather, or rather, probably normal weather which has often been less than pleasant. We left Klamath Falls in bitter cold and with a foot or so of standing snow on the ground. We had to have a tractor tow our truck and trailer out onto bare gravel so we could even get under way.

We had heavy rain our first two nights at Shasta Dam. When we got to Mount Madonna County Park in the redwoods between Gilroy and Watsonville it was raining again and wet and densely foggy when it wasn’t raining. In fact, so much water was incessantly dripping off the trees.

After two days of driving, we finally arrived at Anza Borrego Desert State Park in the California desert east of San Diego. It was a beautiful desert after noon as we were setting up, but in the late after noon, a wind came up that hit us without warning as if we’d stepped in front of a train. The wind lasted three days, strong enough rock the trailer and make it difficult to open and close the door. The noise was intense, and after hours and days of it, it felt like the trailer was being ripped apart.

In fact, only minor damage was done. I’d estimate the wind at about forty miles per hour, not that much in the comfort of your home, but in the trailer we began to feel we were adrift in a small boat. And three days of it. It left us ragged, right up to the moment just before bed last night when it suddenly stopped like a switch had been thrown. This morning I was up at dawn for the usual spectacular desert sunrise, and at the moment, I’m outside with the laptop and thinking it’s time to go back in for a few minutes to make a second cup of coffee.


Despite the initial difficult weather, we’re happy to be back on the road. We’re camping on private land about five miles outside of Borrego Springs, surrounded by mountains on three sides. There are about a dozen RVs out here, spread out over maybe a square mile. Our closest neighbor is over a hundred yards away, a nice guy from Idaho staying by himself in a small older trailer. Behind him sits Larry in his truck. Larry is one of the odd fellows you expect to meet in the desert. After him sitting up there for two days, never leaving the cab that I had noticed, I went up and introduced myself. Larry lost his mother and the apartment they shared about eight months ago, and he’s been living on the road since then, sleeping in the cab of his truck since he doesn’t even have a canopy on it. He talked for some time and twice mentioned suicide—in rather graphic detail involving a .45 caliber pistol—but I told him it would be a better idea to get a canopy so he’d have a more comfortable place to sleep and see how he feels then.

I’m worried about the guy but there’s nothing I can do for him.

We’re getting to know the wildlife. We were sitting outside our first afternoon here and had to lift our feet up to let a tarantula walk by. Brazen coyotes call to each other and hunt kangaroo rats just a few yards from our trailer. We have to be careful with our dogs, small dogs being a coyote’s favorite food. Rats are gamey, and rabbits are tough and stringy, and not that easy to catch.



If you look on Google Earth, you can see us here: N33.17.915; W116.17.011. Or not. I’m not sure how often the photos are updated and it’s been cloudy, but that’s where we are, and you should be able to get a feel for the terrain and see some widely scattered trailers, ours possibly being one of them.

The Great Escape

Winter came early to the Klamath Basin this year, with record low temperatures and heavy snow in late November. We had sub-zero temperatures and plenty of packed snow and ice on the roads. The prospects for getting out of town with our trailer weren’t looking good any time soon. Finally, on December 2nd, we had a break in the weather; we finished packing and prepping the trailer, grabbed the dogs, and, like last year, made a break for it. And like last year, as soon as we got out of town, the weather improved considerably. Still, we were in Redding at a modest RV park waiting out a heavy rain and taking an extra day to organize things.

This roadside RV park is just one piece of evidenceof how bad the economy is. More and more, parks that used to cater to travelers have converted to mobile home parks that accommodate full-time residents, mostly in old trailers and beater cars and trucks. Pit bulls are the pet of choice. This park was still well-cared for, but with fewer travelers on the road and plenty of people looking for the cheapest place to live where they can still stay warm and dry and cook their own food, many RV parks make for a vivid snapshot of how real people are being affected by the economic downturn. Once again, Mary and I feel lucky to enjoy our good fortune and glad that we can be out there spreading our limited bounty around.

After we left Redding we drove down to Mt. Madonna county park in the coastal mountains between Gilroy and Watsonville. I’ve stayed at Mt. Madonna several times when I’ve come down for the Moto-GP races at Laguna Seca, and it’s a nice little park, situated in mixed redwood and oak trees. In the summer, it’s full of families enjoying the cool setting above the heat of the valley to the east and the persistent fog along the coast. In the winter, as is often the case, we have the campground to ourselves. With improving weather coming over the next week, we plan to enjoy some of the hiking trails and dramatic views of Monterey Bay. We’ll also visit some old friends in Santa Cruz and some of Mary’s family in San Jose. Then it’s on to Anza-Borrego Desert State Park in SoCal just above the Mexican border.

I don’t really consider our winter travels to have begun until we actually get down to the desert.

Btw, as I’m writing this I’m sitting in the customer lounge of the Watsonville Dodge dealer while I have the truck transmission serviced. When we started up the long hill into the campground, I remembered from my motorcycle trips how steep and winding the road is. Of course, it’s a quick zip up on a bike, but pulling our 9000-pound trailer, even our Dodge Cummins Diesel bogged down to the point I was only holding at five miles per hour and not at all confident we would make it to the top. Had I thought about it, I would have shifted down to 4WD low, but I wasn’t about to stop and try to make the shift on that hill.

We finally made the top with the red transmission light on and the smell of overheated fluid. The light went out just like it should as soon as I pulled over and let the truck idle in neutral for a minute, but to be on the safe side, I’m laying out $300 dollars to tune up the tranny. Just one more opportunity to make a little contribution to the local economy.

(Oops: make that $350. The service tech just told me the transmission fluid looked a little dark from over-heating, so they're going to do a complete flush. If I stay around much longer, they'll sell me a new truck.)

Prudence

Maybe tomorrow. . . .

God of Winter and the North Wind

Last year, Mary and I planned to leave for our Southwest winter safari on December 15th. It seemed a safe bet since even if we got some snow before then, it usually doesn’t start to stay on the roads until sometime in January. Not that you can’t pull a trailer over a snowy pass—big-rig drivers do it all the time—but given a choice, I prefer bare and dry, even with our itsy-bitsy 10,000-pound trailer.

Of course, you can always chain up, but no real man would ever willingly chain up no matter what the conditions. I’d rather ask directions.

But winter surprised us with a series of early storms arriving back to back. I had the trailer at the house and the truck and trailer chained up, if only to get down our steep hill to the highways. But then we saw a brief break in the weather on December 12th, not anticipated in the forecasts, so we threw the dogs in the truck, took off the chains, and made a run for it. It was windy going around Mt. Shasta before we got to I-5, raining and the temperature only 34 degrees, but we had only wet pavement and made it out of the mountains on I-5 without incident and only moderately sweaty palms.

So this year we decided to get an even earlier start and leave December 8th to be safe, but again, Boreas surprises us with his early arrival, and we’re looking out the window at conditions like those in the picture. Nuts.

So it looks now like our best shot is tomorrow, the 2nd, with more snow in the forecast but daytime temperature forecast to rise to 38. By afternoon, there’s a good chance the pass will be clear down to Weed and I-5. (For some reason, highway 97 to Weed is often clear when 140 to Medford has packed snow and ice, despite them both being at about the same elevation, 5500 feet.)

If we don’t get out tomorrow, the forecast is back to more snow and temperatures at or below freezing. We might have to wait who knows how long, and I might even have to chain up.

Dammit. I’m thinking next year, November 15th.